Chapter Twenty-Four
At halftime, Parker goes upstairs to take a call from Venture. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Nathan moves to my side so quickly it’s like he was beamed over by an alien ray gun. I don’t need to ask, as he’s already immobilized me with the same unsettled look he wore this morning.
“Nathan—”
“You could’ve done it out of some loyalty to me,” he grouses, “but no, it took divine intervention for you two to talk again. I don’t even know if I can call this a win.”
“Isn’t the important thing that Parker and I are on good terms again?”
“You were so against it the last time I saw you. What changed?”
I pause to think of the night at Picotea. I still don’t know why I let him buy me dinner. I’ve stopped questioning a lot of my choices around Parker the moment I first let him strip me naked in his hotel suite.
“To be honest, when I saw him, I did consider running away—but it didn’t seem right. And then we talked, and it was like all that anger I’d been holding onto since I was twenty wasn’t consuming me anymore. It helped that he wasn’t being an ass, either.”
“Did you guys talk about—you know—what happened that Christmas?”
Just because we’re hooking up now doesn’t mean I’ve written off all that unresolved history.
It looms like a rickety bridge in the distance—we’ll cross it when we get there.
If we get there. Maybe I’ve avoided it because I know we’ll be out of each other’s lives soon.
I haven’t been eager to dig up those skeletons.
“I haven’t asked. He hasn’t mentioned it either.”
Nathan nods, and, perhaps sensing my apprehension, changes tack. “Well, this is great. Now that you two are getting along again, it means I can have you both at the wedding—”
“Wedding?”
“Not yet,” he replies quickly. “Still have to buy the ring. But there’s a girl—”
“There’s a girl,” I echo with a teasing lilt. “Pray tell, Nathan Tran, who is this girl that’s made an honest man out of you? And why didn’t you bring her home for Thanksgiving?”
“Irene is general counsel for a huge Shanghai corporation. She works remotely from Philly, but she doesn’t get US holidays off.”
“She’s a lawyer?”
“A big-shot one at that. Naturally, my parents love her. And she’s great, so why wouldn’t they? She’s the coolest person I’ve ever met. We’re coming up on three years, so . . . yeah, I think maybe it’s time.” His last words tumble out in a rush, and his face blooms with a deep blush.
“I’m happy for you, Nathan,” I say, trying not to dwell on how much can change in three years or what else I might’ve missed. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out with haste. The caller photo shows a pretty girl with a bob cut nuzzling her nose against a white poodle.
“That’s her!” he declares and exits the room, but not quickly enough for me to miss the sugary pitch of his “Hey, babe.” I shudder and giggle to myself.
We’ve only just gotten back to the way things were, but if Nathan gets married, that means there will be a seventh person at future dinner parties.
It’s almost jarring to imagine our small group expanding, and the possibility of adding an eighth, maybe even a ninth seat.
“Where did Nathan and Parker go?” Chú asks as he enters from the kitchen, stamping out the thought that had begun to form. He holds an iPad in one hand and his phone in the other, looking like he has bigger fish to fry than keeping track of his adult sons.
“Parker’s upstairs, and Nathan just left,” I say, and my eyes fall curiously to the screen in his hands. Images buffer—elegant semi-detached houses shot from various angles. “Oh no. Is my dad making you read his boring articles too?”
He swipes a finger across the iPad. “I’m just browsing.”
“You like to browse houses in . . . Philadelphia?” Upon closer inspection, I see that he’s scrolling through Zillow listings. “Kind of expensive for window shopping, don’t you think?”
He isn’t listening to me, instead glaring over his shoulder like he’s trying to summon his offspring. “We need the long table and two more chairs. Tell Parker to get them from the basement.”
“I can get them.”
“No, Parker can do it. He’s so big, you know? Might as well make himself useful, otherwise, what’s he good for?”
Oh, I know he’s big. I also know one thing that’s good for—dammit, Dani! Not this again! “I’ll go find him.”
I shuffle upstairs, padding down the familiar hallway until I reach Parker’s bedroom.
The door is ajar, open just enough that I can poke my head in.
But Parker isn’t there. I retreat quickly, not wanting to snoop.
Contrary to his claims, I’m definitely not a stalker.
I’m not even curious about what remnants of his past are still in there.
Even if I am leaning in closer. And maybe a little closer still, for one more quick peek—
“What are you doing?”
I practically jump out of my skin, spinning around to find Parker looming vigilantly in the hallway. My soul vacates my body.
“Uh . . . your dad is calling you. Something about a table.”
He’s got a sixth sense for Dani goof-ups, and he’s already caught on. A smirk appears, grating on my nerves, but I’m in no position to provoke.
“You can come in if you want,” he says, extending an arm over my shoulder to push the door open. The movement takes minimal force, but his upper body still bumps into my back, and I know it’s intentional.
I follow him into the room, and he shuts the door behind us.
As soon as I step inside, the nostalgia from earlier returns, heavier than before.
It’s as if, by some magic, this space has been frozen exactly as I remember it.
The framed Joe Montana jersey still hangs on the same gray walls.
His football gear is stacked in the corner.
An Adidas duffel bag sits untouched at the foot of his closet.
The only modification is where the old beanbag used to be: There’s now a desk in its place, textbooks piled on top.
I disregard the prickle in my chest. “I thought you were on a call.”
“Yeah, I was using Nathan’s PC. I forgot to charge my laptop after my flight.” He takes a seat by his desk. I was hoping all his old furniture would be too small for him, and he’d have to embarrassingly cram himself into a chair in front of me.
“Was it so urgent that they had to call you on Thanksgiving?”
“It was. Heather was trying to get a hold of me before she flew out for her own plans.”
Oh. Of course it was Heather. When the work wife calls, you can’t leave her hanging. I take a nonchalant look around the room, feigning disinterest. “Are your parents buying Nathan a house when he gets married?”
His brows rise. “Um, no? I don’t think so. Did you hear something?”
“Your dad was looking at listings.”
“Well, I don’t know how they’d afford it, but if they do, I’ll be pissed off.” Parker picks up a pen from his desk and spins it in his hand. “Actually, maybe I’ll get married if they’re just handing out property like that.”
I move past the sudden jab somewhere between my stomach and my heart. “You don’t think they’d sell this place and leave Silverpine . . . right?”
His eyes move to the window, and he says distractedly, “I can’t see why they would. They still have the pharmacy.”
“Right, right.” I fidget on the spot until I realize I’m still standing awkwardly by the door.
But since Parker took the only chair, there isn’t anywhere else for me to get comfortable.
Except . . . the bed. I used to hop on there without a second thought when we were kids, watching over Parker’s shoulder as he played Pokémon FireRed on his Game Boy Advance.
We’d have sleepovers here, giggling late into the night until Chú came knocking and we pretended to be asleep.
Those conversations are lost to the past now, but the laughter remains fresh in my mind.
I take cautious steps until I’m at the foot of the bed and lower myself to a seat. I sit with the demeanor of a schoolteacher about to reprimand her kindergarten class: back straight and knees together, pointed in Parker’s direction.
He watches the entire process like it’s some agonizing performance. “Why are you so on edge?”
“We won’t get in trouble for being here, right?” I chew on my lip. “Didn’t your parents have a ‘doors open’ rule after we turned fourteen?”
“In trouble? Dani, we’re not teenagers anymore. No one’s going to suspect anything. They haven’t even finished processing that we’re friends again.”
“Speaking of which, we need to come up with a better answer than ‘We’re just hanging.’ We should coordinate our stories. Nathan’s already on our case.”
“Who cares what Nathan thinks?” He relaxes in his chair, crossing his legs. “They don’t need to know all the details. We can say we went to an event and grabbed dinner a couple times. It’s called a white lie.”
I scrunch my sweater in my hands. “I don’t want to keep lying to their faces.”
Parker steeples his fingers, like an antagonist in his villain chair. “Relax, Dani. Yes, it’d be awkward as fuck if they found out, but that doesn’t mean we’ve done anything wrong.”
“But—”
“Stop overthinking it.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You want my help?” He rises from the chair and takes deliberate steps toward me. It’s like watching an incoming storm cloud, knowing that I’m in its crosshairs. The mattress sinks under his weight.
“Why did you sit down?”
“Didn’t realize you’d commandeered my bed.” He curls a long leg between us. “May I?”
Maybe I’m a little intrigued. “You may.”
“I happen to know you decompress best when we’re on a bed together.
” A hand, tanner than I remember, floats to my face, and he traces my lower lip before taking it between his forefinger and thumb.
Suddenly, my stress is a precarious sandcastle to his tide, ready to crumble just as easily as I melt into his touch. “See?”